


It Is Witch Time

by Rafabusca_potter132



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Beltane, F/M, Secret Relationship, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27295264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rafabusca_potter132/pseuds/Rafabusca_potter132
Summary: BELTANE+NIMULOT
Relationships: Arthur & The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), Arthur/Red Spear | Guinevere (Cursed), Gawain | The Green Knight & Nimue & Pym & Squirrel | Percival (Cursed), Gawain | The Green Knight & The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), Merlin & Nimue (Cursed), Morgana | Igraine & Nimue (Cursed), Nimue & Squirrel | Percival & Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), Nimue/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	It Is Witch Time

The scent of late spring floats through the clearing while Nimue gathers primrose packets and marigold; fresh grass, clay soil, and hints of the sea. Pym and Morgana guide the boys and Guinevere to cut and stack wood near the fire in preparation for the Beltane fire.

She pauses to observe Lancelot, shirtless, his muscles shining as he brandishes an ax, breaking logs with ease. On his back, they showed his scars, and under his eyes, his marks which prove that he is of Fey descent and was part of one of the clans which were already exterminated by the ancient paladins, his strong shoulders and arms carrying all those logs and there he was with little Percival following him as a cub following his father. With them were Guinevere, Gawain, and Arthur, and the four adults and the boy were competing who stacked more wood, not to mention that who was winning was the Viking warrior. Pym catches the queen's attention and they both look at the boys and the redhead swings her eyebrows. Nimue represses a smile.

Feeling her gaze over him, Lancelot looks up, with sweaty hair stuck to his neck, and draws Nimue's attention. He smiled slowly, his eyes lazy, and supported the ax on his shoulder. "Can I help you with something, dear?"

Nimue rolled her eyes and pretended she wasn't blushing like a beet, ignoring the shivers his warm gaze had ignited in her core. "No."

"Are you sure?" asks Lancelot. "You're looking a little-"

"Irritated?" Nimue replies.

"No" The Fey raises the ax again, and she represses a groan as she watches his biceps flex with the effort he pretends it is difficult to do this action. "Thirsty. ”

Nimue couldn't decide whether she wanted to jump him or kill him, so Pym intervened.

Pym was one of the only ones together with Squirrel and the green knight who liked him, since the beginning of the redemption of the old weeping monk. His story began when he save Percival from the paladins and the trinity guard and found Gawain in the middle of the path that both believed he was dead, together, the three found her in one of the streams that connected the sea with the rivers, Nimue was with two arrows in his body, Lancelot jumped into the river and brought her to the surface and with Gawain's help, saved the queen from death, but once she was cured, she fought with Gawain for trusting a murderer, and tried to kill the older man, but the little boy calmed her down and made her trust this newly discovered Fey, but merely in order to protect, and since then the queen and ash Fey ended up becoming expert to annoy each other, she could increasingly find defects in everything Lancelot did and he started to get angry with her because of her abilities to be a rascal. In the middle of their journey, they found Nimue's father and her friend, who would become one of the most powerful sorceresses the world would have, together were found by Feys that survived the ambush of the Ice King along with the renegades of Captain Red Spear's troop, the exiled daughter of King Cumber. Pym and Nimue quickly glued on the hip, like they always were as a child, they were best friends and they loved each other. Passing the days, the Queen and the black knight tried to manage their relationship, but both discovered that they had no more romantic feeling for each other, and what they have is a bond of friendship for the other, Arthur after saving the captain in the middle of battle, and meeting Guinevere, he realized he was deeply in love with the Viking warrior, and Nimue had a lot to do being the queen of the fey and she becomes exhausted with all the thing she needs to do, and thought that having a pretender while she was the queen of the Fey would be negligent with both of the tasks. So they decided to be just friends and quickly grew into a fraternal relationship. Lancelot and Gawain became close as brothers, and slowly Arthur became a part, and they came to be a trio, they started doing missions to the queen together, and now they are close like the girls. Meanwhile, Nimue and Merlin have accepted each other as father and daughter, and he is teaching Morgana, Nimue, and Pym how to access their powers and the knowledge of being powerful, and because of Pym, all-girls became friends even the quiet and revenge Viking captain. Which brings us to what is happening, the Feys and Humans are preparing for the celebration of the early summer, the famous Beltane party.

"Lemonade, it's already coming," says the redhead, heading towards the house. "I think it's time for a break."

"It's definitely time for recess for Lancelot," Arthur says, leaning against the stone altar, a loose arm around Guinevere's shoulders. "Just take a walk, bro."

Lancelot shook his head to look at his friend. "You're telling me."

"Gwen and I don't exchange glances in public."

"Yes, you do," Gawain says, looking offended, he was already sick of this couple.

"No, we don't."

"Arthur," Nimue began. "Let me put it this way. The next time I catch you looking at Gwen, you'll lose your eyes until you learn to behave. "

Arthur swallows dry. " Like ... take them away? And return them? Is that really possible?"

Nimue smiles. "Are you offering to find out?"

"She's joking, my brother", Morgana looks at her friend. "If she tries anything, I'll hit her first."

Nimue mocks. "With what? Magic? I know you can barely throw anything these days. ”

Morgana clenches her fists. "After Beltane, it's on." She raises an eyebrow. "It's not like you're conjuring up your roots now."

Nimue looks away. It was true; it had been six months since Samhain had passed, and she noticed that her magic was less ... explosive than it used to be. They were racing in what had the best magic. It happened in outbreaks at first. A spell went wrong here, an unfinished potion there. And then, her fire started to disappear.

"It's the cycle of the year," Merlin comments with his daughter. "You just need a good charge to get your magic back on track?"

"Dad, how do I do that?" Nimue asks. Merlin smiles, with an enigmatic little smile. "Dad, no more riddles!"

"A fertility rite. For your power," he said.

"And that would be ...?" and the magician's daughter almost chokes when she hears what her father says.

" Sexual spell."

Now, while watching Lancelot struggling to put on his shirt, the pain began to grow between his legs. Beltane was a few days away, announcing the arrival of summer, and the abundance that came with him was the perfect moment for sexual magic. And, with luck, restocking her depleted stocks.

Gawain, Arthur, Gwen, and Morgana follow Pym towards the house, and Nimue takes the opportunity to walk towards Lancelot, an extra swing of her hips. He pulls the ax on the cutting block, observes his queen approaching, his eyes fixed on her. His eyes with a fire, the same eyes she dreamed about for days, even though she didn't show that she is attracted to him, though she knew that he would be the only one she could ask to do this favor for her.

"Actually," she says, raising her hands to pet his shoulders, his strong biceps. He pulls her to himself, his warm and heavy hands against her back. "There is something you can do to help me."

"And what would that be?"

"Beltane is coming," Nimue speaks. "And I need your help."

"I can help you, Nimue, you don't need the help of a Fey who knows nothing," says the little boy, looking at his sisterly figure. Nimue frees herself from Lancelot's arms and goes to the little one and messy the little one's hair.

"If I could, I would ask for your help, Squirrel, but it has to be Lancelot".

"But, You hate him" but that wasn't the truth, for some months now there been something growing between the Ashman and the Queen, they began to meet in the middle of the forest overnight because of nightmares, and one of those nights they started to understand each other, and build a respect for the other, and eventually they became the shoulder for the other to cry on when they needed it, their feelings growing stronger and stronger for one another. And finally one day Lancelot decided that their flirtations were not enough and that he wanted her to be his, and he kissed her showing how much he liked her, and from that day on they were enemies, friends, and lovers. But that was a secret, none of the others knew about it, especially this little boy who adopted the Ash Fey as his father figure, if he knew it, he would tell everyone, and the thing they were most afraid of is that the queen's father would know, and she would lose her greatest warrior because of her father's jealousy.

"I don't hate him, I just don't like him" and she knew it was a lie, and the former monk too, after that kiss that they had, they always pretended they hated each other in front of a crowd, but when they go away, they exchange glances of love, and every night they meet to spend an amount of time alone.

"Percival, I think I can help our queen, even if she doesn't like me, I'm her servant," says Lancelot with a malicious smile.

"I can't understand you adults" and he will find the others.  
When they realize they are alone, Nimue returns to her knight's strong arms and he begins to kiss the neck of his queen. Lancelot's hands went down, covering her ass. "What kind of help, dear?"

"I need to do a spell," Nimue said. "But it's not... ...a solo spell."

"What do you need? You know I have abilities with the hidden but I don't have pure magic," Lancelot asks, suddenly serious. "Blood?"

"No", Nimue looks him right in the eye."My father told me that in Beltane, there is a ritual I should do, to make my magic work properly. This spell should capture the power of the moon and charge my own. "

"What kind of ritual?"

"A rite of fertility."

Lancelot raises one of his eyebrows.

"Sexual magic", she continues to explain, and allows herself for a brief moment, to press against her lover. "You and me, in the moonlight."

Lancelot smiles. "That, my queen, I do with great pleasure."

***

They spend Beltane's day winding ribbons around the mast, baking and dancing, weaving garlands of flowers, and having time to care for the garden and themselves, metaphorically and physically sowing the seeds to be harvested in the fall, They all dance around the huge bonfire that they had built in the middle of the campsite, a mast raised in the shadows and when Beltane night started, Nimue and Lancelot walk into the forest, away from all the Feys that keep having fun with the Beltane festival, to have privacy in their misadventures. The privacy was not only for the lovebirds to be able to get away from friends and family, but it was also so that the queen could increase her magical capacity, to complete this part of the ritual the queen undresses completely.

The full moon crawls between them as it advances in the middle of the bush, the leaves are scattered with the breeze of early May. As soon as he was sure that they are far enough away, Nimue pauses and, with visible effort, asks his knight to cast a circle of flames around them. She spreads gorse and hawthorn, hazelnut and sorveira, in the circle, to honor the holiday even more, and waves for Lancelot to start undressing.

Even after six months together, Lancelot still feels warm spikes when he is intimate with Nimue, this beautiful woman wanted him and she had been his first wife and he hopes she is the only one, She since his first night had never been anything but gentle, all the tender caresses and soft words, And this is one of the things that makes him love Nimue. He never felt anything but safer than at his queen's hands.

In the beginning, Lancelot was surprised by the pure magic of the queen, and Nimue was amazed when she found out that he also had a connection with the hidden and had no control over the recent kind of magic that he had never used for his benefit. Nimue took advantage of these moments that they were alone and taught Fey to use his abilities with the hidden ones, and he asked her to show what she learned from Merlin, she started with small spells and they were cause for alarm, but every time the queen met a new spell and showed it to Ashman, this alarm became admiration. Now he would be perplexed when he returned to the camp after a mission alongside Gawain and Arthur and finding Nimue and the other girls, at the medical wing, laughing. A cauldron always bubbled and candlelight melted, and that weird dusty book that Merlin gave to his pupils, opened on the counter among pots, bottles, and dried herbs, the girls were always or looking for new ways to help Pym which was the healer of all fey and Guinevere's troops, or were taking these afternoons moments by themselves, without the boys to get their meetings in order to find out which fey is in tune with which one.

It is enough to say that Lancelot was comfortable with witchcraft despite years of hunting the same one.

Standing in front of Nimue, now naked, in a circle of fire, he feels an emotion running down his spine. She is beautiful in the moonlight. He passes his hand by her arm and she visibly relaxes. "You're in charge, here, darling", he says. "Just show me what to do."

"Here," she murmurs, encouraging him to get down on his knees in front of her. He doesn't protest, he just faces her, his hands beside his body. "Just follow my lead."

Nimue closes her eyes and turns her face to the moon. "Oh three-faced goddess, the mother, the maiden, the old woman. I offer this body and this heart to be blessed with your power. Let your light feed my own fire. I ask you to let your power run through me, let mine grow, then let it be. "

She looks at Lancelot, so solemn. The planes of her face are shaded by the light of the fire, shadows dancing from the waves of muscle on her shoulders, arms, back, and chest. Her heart beats when her warm gaze meets hers, caressing her skin the way her hands would do. The heat blooms in your lower belly, your fire, awakening.

When she kneels, she realizes that Fey's hands are contracting beside her body, almost as if he was containing himself so as not to touch her.

"You offer your body to the three-faced Goddess," Nimue whispers in her lover's ear, "and to me, to complete this ritual?

Lancelot's expression is neutral, but she can see the lust in his eyes. "I do."

"And so be it," murmurs Nimue before moving on to kiss him.

Lancelot's hands fly to her waist and neck, pulling her closer and in his lap. His lips meet hers avidly. Nimue sits on his lap, wrapping herself around his body. Can' t get close enough ...

She can feel his penis growing hard against her thigh. But Ashman doesn't want to rush. He takes his time, explores her breasts with his hands and mouth. His hands start cuddling the line of her spine from her shoulders to her butt, smoothing the rough palms around the curves. He draws the lines of her thighs, calves, and back, and raises his agile fingers to her stomach, her breasts.

Nimue sighs in the kiss. This is Lancelot, she reminded herself and dispels any remaining hesitation. This is what it means to her.

Lancelot moans when she moves her hips in his lap, and he passes his hands over her shoulders and arms. "You are beautiful."

Nimue's breathless laughter turns into a sharp inspiration as he passes his hand through your stomach, advancing toward your center.

"OK?"

"Yes," Nimue gasps when his fingers begin to separate his folds, searching and finding his clitoris. "Goddess, yes."

She leans back to make it easier for his fingers to touch her better. Lancelot traces around the edges of her folds and begins to draw small circles around her clitoris with the tip of her finger. The queen tilts her head back and begins to swing her hips against his hand, supporting her hands on his shoulders. "That's good", she whispers, bending down to kiss him again. "I need more, baby."

Lancelot gently lifts Nimue from her lap and pushes her beloved back on the grass, cold and ticklish against her naked skin, and slowly moves down into her body.

"What you are..."

"Shh," he says, dragging his lips over her sternum, her navel, to the apex of her thighs. "Didn't you say that orgasms carry their powers?"

"Yes but-"

When he smiles at her, very much like the wolves she fought when she received her Name of the Wolf Blood Witch, and Nimue trembles when he sees the desire in her eyes, almost a dark blue. "Let's see how many you can have".

Nimue doesn't complain when he puts his shoulders between her thighs, and lowers his face to her, and starts licking her pussy.

Nimue chokes and bows against her mouth and with her hands grab Lancelot's hair, which after returning to his Feys roots he let grow, and she presses the back of his head to let him closer to her Femininity. After a moment, he glides one finger, then another, into her hem, and she moans loudly with the sensation. So full. She never touched herself so much, but when she did, she never felt as good as when Lancelot does that.

"Lance" she moans, shameless with the strength with which she tightened her thighs around his head.

He pinches gently on her clitoris, and she pushes her hips. Her eyes open for a fraction, and she sees the moon, bright and full above them. Meanwhile, her power began to sing. When Lancelot sticks his fingers in and out of her increasingly fast, sucking her clitoris, she moans.

"Come on, Nim," he murmurs against her, his voice a delicious vibration against her skin. "Come to me, dear." He seals his lips around her clitoris and sucks again. Nimue bows his back and comes with a scream, and shouts his name to the moon.

He licks her during the orgasm, even when she shakes, grabbing her hips twitching, and licking until she starts to peak in a second.

"Lance", Nimue Panting.

"Touch yourself, darling," he growls. "Pinch your nipples for me."

Nimue moans, and holds her breasts, her fingertips dancing on her tense nipples, provoking the peaks with gentle tugging. She was approaching her second peak, just a few more onslaughts from Lancelot's fingers, another blow from her tongue and ...

Lance moves away and Nimue stands up with a cry of protest. "What-"

But he lay on top of her, all smooth muscle, and spread her so that she could easily find her hips with his. When she feels his penis pushing inside her, she throws her head back against the grass and moans with fullness.

"OK?" Lancelot grunts, breathless.

She nods her head, and pulls him down, and moans loudly as he slides completely in.

"Nimue", he murmurs against his lips, "God, you feel good."

"Move," she presses his ass with her palms, turning her hips to find his. "Please."

"I don't want to," he says, instead, he opts for a slow movement of his hips against hers, and putting pressure on his super-sensitive clitoris.

Nimue's Singh turns into a moan when he pressed his hips hard against hers.

"Move, damn it," she moans, almost reaching orgasm. "Now.

Lancelot can't help but smile maliciously before pulling almost to the tip, and pushing back to the root. Nimue chokes, and when he hooks an arm around her back to keep her in place, she screams loudly as her stacks get faster, stronger. She puts her arms around his shoulders, bows her back, and wraps her legs around him.

Lancelot's body, warm and heavy, is a comforting weight on top of her. He fits perfectly in the middle of her hips, and her penis was thick, reaching all the points inside her, the hot and addictive friction. Each time they meet, he is always more intense than the previous one, warm and tender, desperate and passionate.

Lancelot presses his face against her neck and grunts at each stroke, screams together with Nimue.

"Stronger," she practically cries. "I need it".

"I got you, baby," he turns his hips again, reaching for a hand to rub his clitoris. "Come to me, beautiful.

When Nimue comes, she comes with a long, sharp moan. The orgasm, boiling in her core, explodes, sending pleasure all over her body. She shakes, she cries. Lancelot clings to her harder, pushes her orgasm through, until she lies down against the grass, panting, hypersensitive and squirming. Lancelot grunts, and keeps beating his hips against hers once, twice, before burying himself in it and moaning, long and loud, coming after it. Nimue feels the warm splash of his seed inside her. She chokes, and her magic lights up in her veins.

Lancelot presses his face against her neck, supporting all his body weight over hers. He feels comfortable, safe, and correct, pressing her against the earth.

"Did we do this?" He murmured against her skin. "Do you feel different?"

Nimue turns his head to see the fire dancing around them in a ring. With inspiration and exhalation, the flames increased and decreased, all at his silent command. But it wasn't enough.

"We're close," she said. And in the light of the moon, with her awakening of power, buzzing in her veins, she feels the desire stirring again in her core, and squeezes herself around Lancelot. He shakes his hips in surprise, with a scream and a moan. "Nimue, I need a min-"

With a whispered spell, he hardens again and Nimue hums with the sensation.

"How?"

Nimue laughs, sits down, and gently unhooks him, and pushes Lancelot on his back before he knows what's happening. "Witches have been doing this for centuries, they learn a few tricks along the way."

"What other tricks?" He asks, panting.

Nimue smiles. "Like this."

She lowers her head and sucks him deep. Lancelot's groaning is another growl, torn from his throat, lost in the breeze.

"Darling", he moans, his hands in his hair. "Nimue, shit, that's so good-"

She takes him by the hand, establishing a slow and constant rhythm, sucking deeply. She looks up and almost laughs when she sees her knight throw his head back. Her eyes were crossed? They always were, if she sucked him so ...

Whenever Nimue laughs and squeezes her base, Lancelot shakes his hips.

"Darling, I'm coming," he warns her. She usually wouldn't like him to end up in her mouth, preferring to end it with just her hands. But tonight, she feels free, uninhibited, a wave of lust leading her to suck her warrior's limb deeper and spins her tongue around his head. Lancelot's breath accelerates, her hands grab Nimue's hair and her hips turn again. He mocks with a long growl, and Nimue buries him deeply in his throat, ignores the sour and salty taste, and swallows fast. She hides a face and sits down.

"Come here," says Lancelot, pulling her back into his lap. "Do the new thing..."

She whispers the spell in her ear and caresses its flaccid length until it is thick and hard again on her palm.

They moan together when Nimue guides him to his core and sinks to the stem. She tightens her muscles and Lancelot grunts. He grabs her waist and begins to slide up and down, pushing up every time she sinks back. When Nimue supports his hands on his shoulders, he lowers his head and takes a nipple to his mouth, sucks on his beak, massages the other in his hand.

Nimue gets lost in the loving rhythm of her warrior, in the methodical rise and fall of her body against his, the smell of him, his arm holding her tightly around his waist, pulling her towards him with every impulse as if he were trying even closer.

Lancelot observes her moving over him, a Goddess in the moonlight, messy hair, half-closed eyes, her exuberant lower lip stuck between her teeth. When she sinks into his member, he delights with the friction, her heat tightly squeezing around him.

With a grunt, he pulls her with a fist in the back of his hair, pulling her up, until he gets completely out of her.

"Baby, what are you-" she is breathless, her mind is without thoughts, only worried about the need to be with him inside her.

"Hands and knees", he says, gently guiding her back to earth. Nimue moves without protesting, stretches her arms in front of her, chest on the ground, back arched, like an offering.

Lancelot opens her legs further with his knees, kneeling behind her, passing his hands through the curve of her ass, holding his hand in her hair again.

"Lance", the queen panting. "Honey, please, I need you-"

He pushes himself back into that warm channel with a powerful slap of his hips against her ass, and she screams, leaning against the earth. Nimue pushes herself back against him with every impulse, his other hand an iron grip around her hip.

"Yes, Lance" Nimue cries, and he loves how his name sounds on her lips.

"I need it".

"What, honey?" He asks with a rough voice. "Do you need more?"

"Yes, yes,"

Another stroke, a slow and powerful one, throwing Nimue against the grass.

"What's the magic word, baby?"

"Bastard" the queen grunts and screams when he pulls his hand from his hip and slaps her ass, a sharp slap that echoes against the trees.

"Try again," he says with a serious tone.

Nimue shakes. She's so used to the gentle Ashman, the careful Lancelot, on the mattress in her tent. But this Lancelot, this dominant and demanding Lancelot ... her clitoris hurts to be touched, her nipples hurt to be pinched. She wants to enjoy it. She can feel it growing, just out of reach. The pressure of her hand on her hair, pressing it gently against the earth, sends a shiver of heat through her.

"Please, Lancelot," she cries. "I need more, please make me enjoy it."

Throw a growl, squeeze your grip on her and start fucking her with hard, brutal stabs.

It was glorious. Nimue squeezes around him as if he's luring him into orgasm, swinging back, finding his hips at every impulse, which makes him groan.

"Come again, dear," he growls. "I want to hear from you. Touch yourself."  
Nimue reaches back to rub his clitoris in desperate circles. She was close, so close...

Fey releases his hair and pushes his hand to the side, caressing her with heavy blows, the rough ends of his fingers rubbing gloriously around his hardened button. "I'm close, baby, you better come now."

With one more strong impulse, he advances in his body and pours himself with a grunt which turns into a scream, torn from the bottom of his chest, and Nimue reaches orgasm.

She shakes, she screams, her center squeezing hard around his dick when she cums. She presses her face against the earth and moans when the tension explodes in her center, sending tingling, warm sensations dancing around her body until every inch of her skin seems to be on fire. Everything became white and soundless, and all she was aware of was Lancelot inside her.

She ends up losing all her strength and strength lying on her stomach against the grass, Lancelot presses her face against the back of her neck, a heavy and warm weight on top of her.

"Are you all right?" He asks, caressing the shell of her ear. "Love? Was it too hard?"

When Nimue doesn't answer, he walks away, falling on his back and pulling her in his arms. "Nimue?"

She hums, smiling against his shoulder. "No, baby" she talks calmly. "You were wonderful."

Lancelot circles smoothly up and down her torso as her breath balanced. "How are you feeling?"

"Mmmm," the queen stretches, arching her breasts into her muscular chest. "I feel better." She extends her palm to the sky, concentrating. Lance watches when a blue flame erupts in her hand, dancing, chasing the shadows of her face. "Much better." She closes the palm of her hand and extinguishes the fire, and tilts her face toward him. "Thank you."

Lancelot smiles with fatigue. "It was no hardship, my queen."

"I love you," she says, wrapping herself in her warmth.

"I love you too," he says, pressing a kiss against her crown.

They stayed there, in the circle of the fire, until Lancelot started shaking.

"Cold?" Nimue jokes.

"No." He shouts when Nimue smiles, putting his hand between his legs.

"Hmm, it seems so."

Before Lancelot could turn her back and show her how cold he wasn't, she stands up, the ring of fire is gone, and runs towards his tent.

"If you catch me, I'll warm him up," she calls him, his laughter lost while she shot among the trees, her hair running behind her, a naked figure dressed in the moonlight.

Lancelot growls and leaves in pursuit.

A scream echoed through the forest as he picked her up, and then soft, gentle moans echoed through the trees, carried by the wind to the moon, a bright blessing above.

Without knowing they were being watched by the famous wizard and the queen's friend.

"I said they liked each other," says the redhead.

"Yes, you said, I still can't believe I lost our bet," says the wizard delivering the honey cakes they bet.

"These two are very similar and I knew my best friend would like this mysterious" and she starts to laugh.

"Come on, my dear, let's go back to the big bonfire" and they returned to have fun on that beautiful night of Beltane.

**Author's Note:**

> KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE WELCOME  
> LOVE YOU!!!!!


End file.
